A/N: Well, I thought this poem would be a one-shot, but because of all the good reviews I've gotten and the show's inspiration, I've decided to write another chapter! Ric's POV, obviously! (Just a side note, if Ric says you or us he's talking to Sonny) OOC content!!! And I say again, you may flame!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own A Christmas Carol. (If I did, that would be weird because Charles Dickens is long dead) I did not steal any of these characters nor do I wish to (except for Steven Weber and Connor Bishop sexy accent , but that's irrelevant to this story)
I wake up to the sound of my tortured screaming again. It was the dream where I'm watching myself like Scrooge from that classic story every child knows.
What was it again? Oh, right A Christmas Carol! I remember Dad taking me to see it every year until I was about 12. By then, he'd said, I'd grown out of it and there was no point in going to see a foolish fairy tale. I now know that he hated the story himself and was tired of seeing it for his son.
As I crawled into bed last night, I knew I would have the dream, and it's your fault. You put thoughts of Mother in my head. This time it was a little different though.
While I was watching myself, you were there too, recounting every minute of the scene. Most times it's Mom who's narrating or Dad.
Meanwhile, a younger version of us struggled to open a gift. I'm never entirely certain what for; I'm always watching the image on mute. Sometimes, if I listen really carefully, I can hear squeals of joy emitting from our smiling mouths. My father sits on the couch; Mother sits on his legs like a child would on Santa's lap before Christmas. Dad's leg bounces Mother slightly in a nervous twitching habit. "What could it be?" Mother mouths, and this time it's as though your playing tricks with me, turning up the volume with some secret dial to let me catch those few words.
That would be the narrator's turn to say, "Look this is how it could have been, Ric." And then I would run out crying like the baby I am. The dream usually ends then with my pillow drenched with tears.
But you, knowing my next move, grabbed my wrist and said the line. You continued, "We could have been happy, you and me. We could have been the family you always wanted, but you had to go and screw it up." Your speech was over, but you keep a hold of my wrist.
I turned to you my vision blurred by the sudden presence of tears. You wouldn't let me go to cry outside the bay window and never look in on the view until the next time I dreamed this image. You wouldn't let me wake up from the terrifying nightmare. "Let Me Wake Up, Sonny!!!" I'm on my knees, begging with you. Your eyes are so stern and distant.
"LET ME WAKE UP!!!" It's then that I shot up in bed, screaming my lungs out. I'm choking on my own tears and, for that one second, wishing they could permanently strangle me.
A/N: Sorry this is so short. Please R&R!!!